


Vicious Victorians

by Geonn



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, F/M, Multi, Victorian Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-06
Updated: 2011-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen Magnus finds an uncanny ally in her search for Jack the Ripper. (Spoilers for Doctor Who "A Good Man Goes to War")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vicious Victorians

The blood was still wet when Helen arrived, and she felt a twinge in her chest at the fact she had once again arrived just moments too late. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer for the soul of the woman who had died. She supposed it was fortunate that James had managed to keep the majority of victims out of the press. How had it all gone so horribly wrong? She and James were hunting John, who had become a murderer, and Nikola was taking far too much delight in his mission to dispose of the bodies. She shuddered to think what he did with them.

One problem at a time. Nikola may have become a vampire, but John was actively hunting living people. That could not be ignored.

She started toward the mouth of the alley, which had become obscured by fog, when she heard footsteps on the cobblestones behind her. She spun and brought her weapon up in the same move. The fog was thin enough that she could make out the shape of another person, but it couldn't possibly have been John. Perhaps a woman, judging by the shape of her clothing.

"Move along. This situation is being dealt with."

The stranger turned toward Helen but didn't make a move to retreat. "It's obviously not being dealt with very well. Tell me, who are you protecting?"

Helen advanced toward the stranger. "This does not concern you."

"It concerns every person in London. The police may think this man has only killed five women, but you and I... we know better, don't we?"

There was a sound of a sword being unsheathed, and Helen saw the shape of the weapon in the woman's hand. Her eyes widened as she cocked her pistol. "Don't move."

The woman ignored her and started forward. The edge of the sword found the minimal light available in the alley, glinting as it moved through the fog.

"Tell me who the Ripper is and I will allow you to leave here unharmed. Refuse, and I shall be forced to do something I would regret very much."

Helen narrowed her eyes. The woman appeared to be wearing a hood of some sort. "I don't think either of us wants to add to the bloodshed of this evening." She uncocked her pistol and held it up, showing the stranger that she was giving up her arms. She tucked the weapon into her belt and moved forward with both hands held palm-out. "I'm not a danger to you."

"Then it will be easy to glean the murderer's identity from you." The stranger lunged with her sword, swinging upward and giving Helen very little time to respond. She jumped back and narrowly missed being sliced by the very tip of the sword. She shifted her weight to her back foot and spun, grabbing a nearby drainpipe to keep from falling over.

Helen held onto the pipe with both hands and pressed her shoulder to the wall, kicking up with both feet. She kicked her attacker square in the chest, knocking her off balance. She backpedaled a few steps down the alley, giving Helen time to retrieve her gun.

"This will end now!"

"This will end with your compliance," the swordswoman said. She attacked again and Helen ducked the blade as it cut the air above her. She dove from her crouch and slammed into the other woman at waist height. They hit the ground and rolled, some of the blood from John's latest victim smearing across Helen's shoulder as she pinned her assailant to the ground. The woman brought up her sword, but Helen grabbed her wrist and squeezed until the fingers released. The sword dropped to the ground with a clatter.

In the scuffle the woman's hood had fallen back. Helen's eyes widened at the sight of her. Her skin was green and scaled, the top of her skull crowned by three magnificent ridges. Her eyes were brilliant and blue, completely human. "My God. You're--"

One gloved fist glanced off Helen's chin, displacing her weight enough that the stranger could scramble free. She grabbed her sword and backed away down the alley. "We'll see each other again, mark my words."

"My name is Helen Magnus."

The lizard woman froze. She seemed to consider the statement and then leveled her weapon again. "You're lying."

"I thought you might have heard of me." She rose carefully, her hands extended in peace once more. "I think I heard about you as well, while I was at Oxford. A reptilian creature who roamed the Underground killing indiscriminately. By the time I returned, you had apparently vanished."

"I had been rescued." She lowered the sword. "My madness was... soothed by a wise man. I made it my mission to repay his kindness by making amends for the carnage I caused. So help me, if you are protecting this monster under cover of your Sanctuary--"

"He is my patient. I believe I can help him much as your friend helped you. Every soul he takes weighs on me. I consider this death my responsibility as much as his."

The woman looked down at the body, almost indistinguishable from the garbage all around it. Slowly, she lowered her sword completely but did not sheathe it. "He must pay for his crimes."

Helen nodded. "I agree. But you must know that he will never be brought to any conventional kind of justice."

"I never planned on imprisoning him."

The voice was cold, and Helen had no doubt what this woman planned. Still, it wouldn't hurt to have a compatriot out here in the dangerously fog-laden streets. John wasn't the only monster on the streets of London. And the closer Helen got to the truth, the more isolated she felt from her friends. James understood; if he had been fooled, then there was no shame in Helen's ignorance. But Nikola and Nigel... she could tell. They looked at her and wondered if she had been complicit, if she'd somehow justified what their friend was doing. She had been alone from the first moment John's true nature was revealed.

Helen held out her hand. "We shall be better together than apart."

There was a long moment where Helen wasn't sure which way her new acquaintance would fall. A handshake, or a slice of the sword removing Helen's right hand from her wrist. But finally, the sword was put away and the stranger extended a gloved hand.

"My name is Madame Vastra."

"I recognize the name. Scotland Yard swears by you, and my friend James Watson--"

"Swears _at_ me, no doubt."

Helen smiled. "He considers you a worthy compatriot."

"I suppose it could be worse." Vastra looked at the body again. "What shall we do with this unfortunate creature?"

Helen sighed. "I know of someone I can call. But it won't be pretty."

Vastra shook her head sadly. "Murder and its aftermath rarely are, Madame Magnus."

#

Vastra dozed during the ride home, her head rolling with the motion of the carriage. She thought of the Doctor and his salvation, how he had literally brought her up from the depths. She owed the man a debt she could never hope to repay. When the carriage arrived at her home, she dismissed the driver with her thanks and replaced her hood. No one in London, not even her closest friends at Scotland Yard, knew of her true nature. The official story, spread through rumors and hearsay that she started herself, was that a very dangerous criminal had burned her face with acid when she attempted to apprehend him. It kept people from attempting to look too closely under her hood.

Inside the sanctity of her home, however, she was free to be herself. She reverently placed her swords on the stand just inside the entryway and removed her cloak, feeling the warmth of the fire clear through to her bones. After so long in the English chill, it felt good to bask. She considered taking off all her clothing and simply spreading out on a rug in the front room. Of course, if she did that...

Jenny came downstairs as if beckoned by her madame's thoughts. She was dressed in her chambermaid uniform, a bit of subterfuge that allowed the inspectors and detectives who visited the house to look through her instead of at her. Sweet Jenny, the girl who learned how to fight with her overly affectionate foster brothers, who learned how to stay alive in the back alleys of London town.

"How was your hunting this evening, ma'am?"

Vastra smiled and handed Jenny her cloak. "Productive, if frustrating. I met Helen Magnus."

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "That one's a myth."

"That's what I thought. But the strangest myths have the most peculiar way of coming true." Jenny was carefully examining the dried blood on the cloak. "We had a scuffle."

"Rolling around in the dark with another woman, ma'am?"

Jenny tried to disguise her jealousy with a light tone, but Vastra knew her much too well. She crossed the foyer and cupped Jenny's face in her hands.

"Now, now. Don't be like that. I only just met her tonight. I wouldn't simply jump into bed with her the first time we met."

Jenny's lips parted in shock, and Vastra felt a twinge in her chest.

"Oh, dear. I've gone and done it again, haven't I? What an insensitive clod I am." She kissed Jenny's lips once. "I'm sorry, my dear. What I meant to say was... never. Never anyone but you, my dear." She kissed her again. "I love you."

Jenny eagerly returned the third kiss. Vastra pressed her body to Jenny's, guiding her back to the stairs. Jenny pressed against the newel of the staircase. Vastra used the tip of her tongue to part Jenny's lips, welcoming the puff of warm air against her mouth as Jenny took her tongue inside. She kept her eyes opened, but saw that Jenny's closed at the beginning of the kiss.

The first night they were together, Jenny was barely lucid. Beaten, robbed, nearly raped had Vastra not arrived at the most opportune moment. The perpetrators had been swiftly dispatched, and she carried the bleeding young woman back to her home in her arms. She bathed her, cleaned her wounds, and dressed her in a gown that was left behind by the house's former owners. When Jenny woke, she had simply looked at Vastra and seemed to accept her appearance with one simple exchange.

"I thought you were a dream."

"Not a nightmare?"

"Nightmares aren't kind."

Jenny insisted on repaying Vastra's kindness in servitude. The former resident had employed a chambermaid, and the uniform left behind in their hasty retreat fit Jenny perfectly. Assisting Vastra in training became part of Jenny's self-appointed duties, and they spent long afternoons sparring together. In a week, Jenny became an invaluable asset. By two months, she was indispensable. Vastra would no more part with Jenny than cut off her right arm.

Vastra guided Jenny to the stairs and began undoing the buttons of her uniform. Jenny smiled, chuckling under her breath as she kissed Vastra's forehead. Vastra closed her eyes and remembered the first time they were truly a partnership.

After a sparring session, alone in the training room, Vastra had been unable to resist the urge to taste her friend. A gentle kiss on the curve of the neck, hands sliding down the outside of Jenny's arms. They both wore sleeveless tunics for the extra range of motion they provided, and Vastra could feel the change in Jenny's skin as her lips parted and she tasted Jenny's sweat with the flat of her tongue. She nipped lightly with her teeth down to Jenny's shoulder, her fingers still teasing the light hairs on Jenny's arms.

Jenny's voice was trembling when she spoke. "You know I'm a woman, right?" It had been an issue in the past, with Vastra referring to inspectors in the feminine.

"Is that relevant?" Vastra asked, genuinely confused.

"Not to me." She crossed her arms and peeled off her tunic before turning to face Vastra and meet her lips in their first romantic kiss.

On the stairs, after the chance meeting with Helen Magnus, Vastra carefully stripped away her friend's uniform. It was the full-bodied mask she hid behind, allowing all who saw her to make their own judgments. It made people take her less seriously, and often led to the downfall of anyone who would do Vastra harm. Vastra smiled when she thought of Jenny's talents; she could slice an apple in half from across the kitchen, and she'd once speared a housefly with a dagger. She claimed the latter was simply dumb luck, but Vastra knew the truth.

As she explored Jenny's body, Jenny carefully peeled away Vastra's clothing. Her skin was scaled, but soft. Jenny stroked her with three fingers, bending her head to kiss the breasts that proved Vastra was hardly an ordinary reptile. A creature that reproduced with eggs, but nursed her young with mother's milk. Vastra pushed herself up and arched her back to let Jenny tease and suckle her breasts. She knew how much Jenny loved to explore, and that exploration brought her such pleasure it was hard to deny her.

Once they were both nude, Vastra slid down between Jenny's legs and closed her eyes. Jenny's body radiated heat, and never so much as when she was aroused. She lapped at the moisture on Jenny's thighs and then slid her tongue into the space between them, up and over, stroking with the flat of her cool tongue as Jenny writhed on the stair above her.

Jenny's orgasm was accompanied by a quiet cry, her hips rising to meet Vastra's mouth with slow, gentle movements. When she relaxed, Vastra slid up Jenny's body and straddled her thigh. "I would never... never with anyone else." She touched Jenny's face as she settled her weight on one trembling thigh. They looked into one another's eyes as Vastra began to move, breathing heavily as she rode Jenny's leg expertly.

Vastra climaxed, and Jenny sat up to kiss Vastra's chest and throat. Sometimes Vastra wondered if it was peculiar for Jenny, to not feel warm flesh under her palms. But then Jenny would look up at her, the silky dark strands of her hair loose from their pins, and realized that Jenny didn't care about what was on the surface. Jenny loved her, truly, no matter what she looked like.

"I am lucky," Vastra whispered.

"Why? It was my wish that came true."

Vastra grinned and chuckled throatily, pulling Jenny to her for another kiss. And perhaps, if they weren't too tired, another round of lovemaking on a softer surface.

#

Helen undressed in her changing room, let down her hair and lowered herself into lukewarm water just long enough to call it a bath. The water droplets beaded on her skin as she put on a nightgown and walked barefoot into the master bedroom. She moved quietly to avoid waking the men under the covers, but James stirred as she drew back the blankets. He touched her, and she covered his hand with her own.

"Go back to sleep." She bent down and chastely kissed his lips, and then leaned across him to kiss Nigel's cheek. She kept her lips between his lips and the muttonchops, though she had become more comfortable with kissing him on the mouth in the past few weeks. James remained silent, but his eyes were open. She could see the streetlamp outside reflected in their dark pools. She lay down beside him and drew up the blankets, allowing him to put an arm around her waist and draw her close.

The first night had been unplanned. They simply fell asleep together in the sitting room, Helen's head on James' lap, with her feet in Nigel's. Afterward they all remarked that it had been their first good night's sleep since discovering John's true nature. It was barely even discussed. That night when they retired, Helen took both men by the hand and guided them to her rooms. A quiet instruction as to where to find pajamas was enough for them to know she had no ulterior motives. She simply wanted the comfort of being held in someone's arms during the dark, frightening hours.

Of course, as is often the case with consenting adults, the lines gradually became more blurred. Early morning erections made their presence loudly known, and Helen often woke to furtive attempts at masturbation. More than once she woke to one of the men thrusting against her backside while she slept. Sometimes they touched her. More often, she touched them. Occasionally they touched each other. Helen could hear it, and she had enough tact to not bring it up in the light of day.

James was already falling back to sleep, and she drew his arm around her as he pressed against her from behind. Their presence in her bed, their warmth and the soft sound of their breath mixing with her own, made her feel less alone. She didn't know how she would have gotten through these last horrible, draining days without their support.

Helen rolled over to face James, stretching her arm over his waist to pull Nigel to them both. James grunted at being pressed between them, but he lowered his head to Helen's chest and soon adjusted. Helen closed her eyes, cheek to the pillow, and followed him into slumber.

#

There was another reason Helen embraced a partnership with Madame Vastra. Her attempts to catch John in the act required her to acknowledge certain unsavory aspects of her former fiancé's activities. She had been heartbroken when she discovered he was frequenting Whitechapel whorehouses. More than that, she was humiliated. She'd sent James to speak with the owners of the establishments he had been seen leaving, and James paled at the things he was told. Helen paid to keep them quiet, to prevent word of John's debauchery from spreading. That first night, certain he needed only release, she tried to give him what he needed. She let him bind her wrists, tear her clothing, and he called her such hideous names as he--

She pushed the memory behind a wall. To find John meant revealing what she knew of his tastes. It was easier to do that with a stranger than men she would be forced to spend her days and nights with once this was all over. She and Vastra were alone, as they had been for the past eight days of observation, watching the entrance of a brothel where a woman had been sent to the hospital the previous week. She said a man, a nice and refined man who hadn't set off any of her alarm bells, had wanted to use a knife during their time together. She'd thought it was just a bit of fun until he began cutting.

Now they were waiting, patiently, watching the various dregs enter the building. They were sitting in the mouth of an alley, just far enough back that they could see without being seen. Helen kept an eyeglass hooked to her belt, and each darkly dressed character who approached the door received her once-over. Vastra was growing more impatient with each passing minute, pacing with her hood pulled low to cover her features.

"This is madness. We should be out--"

"Running ourselves ragged so that we'll be exhausted when we finally do find our man?" She lowered her eyeglass and turned to face Vastra. "It would hardly be productive. And I think it's rather telling that, despite our different methods, you and I frequently find ourselves at the same crime scenes within moments of each other. And which of us always arrives first?"

Vastra snorted. "Well, perhaps if I were sleeping with the killer, I'd have insights as well."

Helen turned away and looked at the brothel again. Her lips were set in anger, her jaw trembling as she bit back the retort.

After a long while, Vastra sighed. "I'm sorry. Jenny often tells me that I'm insensitive to the feelings of others. If I offended you, please accept my apology."

"It's forgotten." She was glad to put aside the hurt so they could focus on their job. "You've spoken often of Jenny. She must be special to you."

"Yes. She is my lover."

Helen blushed. "Oh, I see." She didn't know why the thought of two women being lovers would seem so novel; after all, she shared her bed with two men, both of whom showed as much interest in each other as they did in her. Perhaps it was the thought of being with a woman herself that caused her cheeks to pinken.

A tall man approached the brothel, and Helen felt her skin grow clammy. She brought the eyeglass up, and her hopes were dashed when she saw his bushy black mustache. He wore a top hat, his lantern-jawed profile unmistakably not John Druitt. A woman came out of the brothel and spoke with him briefly, and he gestured for her to lead the way with the black bag he was carrying.

"Something is amiss," Helen whispered. Vastra moved closed and Helen pointed as the mystery man disappeared into the building. "Stay here."

Vastra put a hand on Helen's shoulder. "You're the one who knows what the Ripper looks like. You stay here, I will see what is happening inside." She stepped around Helen without waiting for a counterargument and crossed the street at a run. She ducked into the alley that ran alongside the brothel and, Helen deduced, used the windows to determine the dark man's location. Helen had no choice but to remain in the shadows, waiting and listening for anything out of the ordinary.

Moments later, the man in the top hat emerged from the brothel at a dead run in the opposite direction. Helen heard the scream as she was leaving the alley, and she spotted Vastra emerge from her own alley. Her hood was secured tightly enough that it wouldn't blow back during her pursuit. Helen, dressed as a society lady so she wouldn't be hassled as a prostitute herself, gathered her dresses and joined the chase.

She quickly caught up to Vastra. "He's a butcher!" Vastra's voice was a hiss of anger, and she was so certain that Helen wondered if perhaps John's transformation had begun taking a physical toll as well. She removed her pistol from the holster and fired a warning shot as Vastra drew her sword. Together they broke through the fog, chasing the tails of their suspect's coat. Helen heard the hollow clack of their heels on the streets, and the other pedestrians cowered to hide their faces so they wouldn't be seen in such a seedy place.

Helen sacrificed speed for accuracy, slowing down just enough that she could take aim at the man's right leg before she fired. She was rewarded with his cry of pain, his leg buckling underneath him as he attempted to run farther than his pierced body would allow. Vastra shouted in triumph.

"Excellent work, Madame Magnus!"

They quickly closed the distance between themselves and their prey, and Vastra gathered his coat with both hands. Her strength was awe-inspiring, and she shoved him down a set of concrete stairs to a small loading area below. He landed in a heap of tangled limbs, both hands clutching the place Helen shot. Vastra advanced slowly down the stairs with Helen behind her. She turned to make sure no one else was following as they descended into darkness.

"Whores," the man sneered.

Vastra kicked him and then knelt beside him. She searched the pockets of his coat and came up with a small book of matches. She lit one and watched the flame dance. "The better to see your victims? Perhaps you offer them a light for their cigarettes to draw them close before you slide your dagger into their pretty white flesh."

He sneered, his teeth looking shockingly white in the darkness. "You are mad."

"Perhaps. But by the end of this evening, you'll join me." She pulled back her hood and the man's eyes widened with fear.

"What in God's name are you?"

"I am His vengeance. What's your name?"

"Dr. Thomas Neill Cream. I perform a valid service for these women!"

Vastra sneered. "Yes, I saw that 'valid service' this evening. How many innocents have you destroyed? How many children died at your hand?"

Helen realized what Vastra had seen through the window. "You're an abortionist."

"He poisons those women. He tears open their bodies and he--"

Cream threw back his head and laughed. "You think I'm the Ripper? Good lord!"

Vastra struck him and, when he lifted his head again, there was a dark line of blood trickling down his chin.

"Whoever the Ripper is, he's doing this city and this world a favor. How many mothers must birth children they cannot support? How many shall die in childbirth leaving yet another orphan for the breadline? How many more, I pray you tell me."

Vastra closed her hand around Cream's throat and squeezed until he began to choke.

"Tell me, Madame Magnus... are you certain your former fiancé is Jack the Ripper?"

Helen stared at the man lying before them, his eyes filled with hatred and violence even as he faced his own mortality. She knew what John was doing, but did she know for certain that he was the killer the newspapers were speaking about. Yes, in her heart she knew. She had no doubts that he was to blame. But the atrocities of this monster before her could not be ignored.

"No. I can't say that for certain."

Vastra grinned and withdrew a smaller blade from her belt. Helen winced at the sounds Cream was making now.

"Go back up the stairs, Madame Magnus. Make sure we are not disturbed."

Helen gladly fled back to the surface, cringing at the choked screams and cries that came from Thomas Neill Cream's throat as Vastra enacted her brutal justice upon him. She embraced herself and watched the street, knowing she would be imprisoned as an accomplice if they were caught. She shuddered, but not from the cold blowing off the Thames. She had been right earlier; there were more monsters than John Druitt roaming the streets of London these days.

#

Blood seemed to fill the streets. An unidentified torso was found in the basement of what was to become Scotland Yard's new headquarters, and pieces of the same body were found floating in the river. Helen and James investigated and learned it was John's doing. They covered up the murder, ensuring the future home of Scotland Yard would always be built upon the site of an unsolved murder. Nikola grew weary waiting for John's victims to surface and disappeared, a threat they would have to deal with eventually.

And then Helen shot John Druitt in the head.

She had finally caught up to him, found him before his blade could taste blood. But he outwitted her. He killed another prostitute and teleported away, but not before Helen took a piece of him. He vanished entirely, and the Ripper murders ceased. The nights grew calmer and easier to deal with. Helen, James and Nigel spent one final night in her bed, a farewell and a somber celebration that left none of them particularly sated, and Helen started sleeping on her own again.

Months had passed since the final Ripper murder, since Thomas Neill Cream's odd disappearance, when Helen found herself walking down a narrow street that was unknown to her. She spotted the carriage waiting outside of a home, and as she watched, a hooded woman emerged from within. The shape of the hood left little doubt as to who it was, and Helen picked up her speed.

"Madame Vastra?"

The hood turned toward her, as did the petite brunette who had been carrying Vastra's bags. "Madame Magnus. What a surprise!"

They kissed cheeks as well as they could manage with Vastra's hood; she'd modified it for the daylight so that a veil covered her features.

"I hope you're not leaving. It's been ages since I've seen you."

"Yes, I had to... repay a debt to a very old friend." She seemed lost in her memories for a moment before she snapped back to the present. "As for leaving, yes, I'm afraid I must. The Ripper murders have ended, and there's a case requiring my expertise in France. They believe there's a vampire on the loose in Paris. Can you imagine?"

Helen's blood ran cold. "Yes, I can. I would check the wine cellars first."

Vastra inclined her head in thanks, and then turned to the woman with the bags. The woman's dark hair was smoothed back and held by pins. She wore a man's white Oxford shirt and a blue tie underneath a black waistcoat. She was smiling, as polite society dictated she must, but her eyes were assessing Helen for potential threats. Helen immediately liked her.

"This is my associ--" The girl looked sharply at Vastra, who caught herself. "This is my partner. My love, Jenny."

"It's a pleasure, Madame Magnus. I've heard a lot about you."

"And I, you. You seem to be Madame Vastra's favorite subject of conversation." Vastra made a quiet noise, and Helen's smile widened as she tried to look under the veil. "If I didn't know cold-blooded creatures were incapable of blushing..."

Jenny laughed.

"We should go. Time is of the essence, after all." She held out a gloved hand. "I am glad I got a chance to work with you, Helen. It was quite an interesting experience."

"I feel the same. Be safe, Vastra."

She bowed her head and then motioned for Jenny to load the rest of her bags. "Jenny..."

"Yes, ma'am."

Helen waited until Vastra was on the carriage before she addressed Jenny. "You call her ma'am despite your... relationship?"

Jenny grinned. "She finds it arousing."

"Ah." Helen laughed and blushed as she shook Jenny's hand. "Keep her safe, Jenny."

"It's my honor to serve." She winked as she loaded the bags onto the back of the carriage. She sighed and brushed her hands together. "Well, that's that. I'm sure we'll see you again, Madame Magnus."

Helen stepped back to allow Jenny to board the carriage with her partner. Vastra gave an order to the driver, and he urged the horses on. Helen stepped into the street, smiling despite herself as she watched them roll away. Perhaps there was hope for the five of them, for her and the men whose lives she was starting to think she had destroyed with her quest for the Source blood. If a woman who looked like Madame Vastra could find someone like Jenny, then perhaps there was hope for all of them.

She waved goodbye to her new friends before she started walking down the street once more. In her mind, she was thinking about the threat Nikola posed to France. She had faith in Vastra's detective abilities, but her ideas of justice were a bit more brutal than Helen was comfortable with. They would be best together, with Helen there to keep her from going too far once she had Nikola in her clutches.

Helen smiled and began to wonder if she could convince James to take her to Paris for the summer.


End file.
